Soooooooooooooooo....oh, what? Yep, time to write trash about the hash. Trash about the hash. Heh. That should be a song. *sings* Trash about the hash, it's time for trash about the hash. It'll be quite the...the...the...bash! Trash!

Where am I? J.D. McGigglys. McGargles. McGillicuddy's! In Manayunk. No, Havertown. Wayne? Definitely Upper Darby. No way we'd be in Roxborough. But where are we going? I heard that Emo Kid forgot the flour, so he don't have no power. Flour power! Oh well. Hey, there's Just Christian (who certainly looks NOTHING like Hairy Springer to the point where an On-Sec might write that name down instead), who, like me, is passing the time with a...delicious? crabby pretzel that tastes like it was made an hour ago and left under a heat lamp that the staff forgot to turn on. Mmmmmm. Thankfully, Under the Gaydar is here to pass the time by serenading us against our will with the "Banana Boat Song." Day-O! Day-ay-ay-O! Oh, thank Gispert, it's time for chalk talk!

​Whuuu? Post Traumatic Goose Disorder and Fort DixALot are leading us in a song? At chalk talk? Nice. It sounds so damn familiar...

[to the tune of Afroman's "Because I Got High"

Goose:I was gonna write a speechBut then I got high.Was gonna explain these marks and teachBut then I got highI don't know what that cross means and I know why

DixALot: Why, man?

Goose:Because I got highbecause I got highbecause I got high

I was gonna lay a trailBut then I got highI hope I don't end up in jailBecause I'm highNow I'm paranoid and I know why

DixALot: Why, man?

Goose:Because I got high because I got high because I got high

Dix will explain these marks, because I'm highI hope none of you are narcsBecause I'm high

Hahahahaha. Good shit, man. Good shit. We even get a new hash mark tonight, the peace sign, which means individual group hugs....yep, makes perfect sense. "Don't be smelly!" Where's Mi D? warns us (whatevr the fuck that means) and with that, we're On-Out!

"R U?" *crickets* "R U?!" *winds whistles* "ARE FUCKING U?" *tumbleweeds roll by* I think evryone forgot how R U? works but how? It's not like we've inhaled somet....ohhhhh. Thankfully, DixALot is there to re-edumucate us at the next check only for us to immediately forget about it again. Eh, well, fuck it, On-On! Speaking of checks, DixALot​, can you lead us in an ill-conceived, on-the-spot rendition of "I Love Weed" to the tune of "I Love Booze" with shitty, nonsensical lyrics? Thanks!

Holy shit, fuck these Manayunk and Roxborough hills. Fuck them so hard. How is it that Pantyphile has the energy to hurdle gravestones like he's back on the Track and Field team? Why is Ass To Mouth scouting ahead of a song check before we all get there? Spoiler alert much, AtM?

Oh, thank Gispert, a Beer Check! Deep into the Wissahickon woods we pass to drink some beers and smoke some...ummmm....weed. First up, some spiked "Gatorade" which Pantyphile suspects is "old hot tub water" and (in hindsight some 2 1/2 months later) this On-Sec wonders if it wasn't in fact just old bong water. The blue one sure as shit tasted like it, hence the Pack jostling for the orange one (Pantyphile: "Orange you glad it's not the blue drink again?")

Smash cut to Circle because I wrote fuck-all from Beer Check to On-In and barely anything after that. Fort DixALot was sure to congratulate all "two and a half hares" that laid trail and followed that nice burn by asking, "What'd we all think of Circle tonight?" Oh boy, did we let him know. Pantyphile lamented the lack of J checks (get it?) while our transplants, Under the Gaydar and Ass to Mouth, serenaded and dazzled us with a full-on ballroom dance recital of "Be Our Guest," hashy style, of course.

Baaa! Ram Him,your On-Sec, was chided for knowing that 4/20 is also the anniversary of the Columbine Massacre and Hitler's birthday because half-minds ain't supposed to know shit. Finally, the 4/20 hash went in peace in the most wonderful way possible: with free pizza, fries, and Coors Light beer.

Sex Toys for Tots (gesturing to Where’s My D?): I’m the one who changes her diaper.

Some random little kid: Wait for me, I’m the fastest!

Just Mego: We used to do the Rock Paper Scissors league.Just Emilio: It’s a lot of mind games.

Baa Ram Him: We disappointed the children. Not my first time.

Random Kid 1: How far do you want to go with them?Random Kid 2: Clemente.Random Kid 1, gesturing to building we are next to: That’s Clemente.Random Kid 2: Okay, well a little further.

Goose: 60K9, Dixalot [sic: he meant International Dicklomat] sounds like someone from NPR in the morning.60K9: Dave Davies.Goose: No. I listen in the morning and the afternoon.SideShow Bobjob: YES! He does sound like someone!60K9, to Dicklomat: Say something.International Dicklomat: {some political sounding stuff in impressive radio voice}All parties: {name more public radio personalities than I knew existed, but the identity of Dicklomat’s vocal doppelgänger eludes them}

AssAssInNation: See! There *is* a penis involved!

Just Sahar: I moved to America when I was young and impressionable and got corrupted and now my parents hate me.

Tits: I’m going to do it slowly by myself.

Just Alex: By witchcraft, I mean crouching in the bush with binoculars two blocks back.

May I Cum on Ya?: I got sick last weekend. We were at a flea market that had a place that sold wigs next to a place that cut hair next to a place that served food.

Scarface: The trick is the feet. Anyone can do the hands. It’s all about the feet.

60K9: You ate 7.Bitchshots: I ATE AT LEAST 25.60K9: 7.Bitchshots: 25.Slothy: Did you guys have a nugget contest?60K9: We were trying to eat 50.Slothy, disapprovingly: And you ate 7?Bitchshots: I ate like 20.60K9: Okay, maybe 20.

Emo Kid: Oh, so many balls.

Other People’s Pussy: Tatertot? Popper?Desperately Seeking Pussy: I thought you were calling her “tatertot.”

Just Elvis: I have some chafing problems, I don’t blame her.

Goats: *wraps a tater tot in a piece of lettuce*

Pounded in the Can: The cops where really nice to me while I was doing it. They were like, “you got a whole bunch more people.”

Thud Muffin: It’s goin’ bitchin’.

Fort Dixalot: It stays in your mouth.

Just Sean: It was going really slow and nothing was happening and then suddenly it was happening.

UrineLuck: This is the first time I’m eating a jalapeño popper.

Orgy Porgy Puddin’ Pie: They call me PPPPPPPPPPPPP.

Pink and Puffy Rides the Huffy: *mumbles hash name incoherently*Slothy: I’m sorry, what was that?PaPRtH: *mumbles hash name incoherently again*Slothy: One more time.PaPRtH: P{incoherent}Slothy: Oh****later****Slothy: I really want to get this right. What is your hash name, syllable by syllable?PaPRtH: PinkSlothy: PinkPaPRtH: AndSlothy: AndPaPRtH: PuffySlothy: PuffyPaPRtH: RidesSlothy: RidesPaPRtH: theSlothy: thePaPRtH: {incoherent}Slothy: wtfPaPRtH: Huffy. Slothy: Huffy?PaPRtH: It’s a bike.Slothy: Ok. I finally got it, thanks!PaPRtH: I had a different name in my home hash.Goats: Where are you from?PaPRtH: Albania.Goats: What was your name?Slothy: *prepares for even more incomprehensible babble of syllables*PaPRtH: Lazy Lover.

Glitoris: Hi, how are you [Sorry, she autohashed so that is the only thing I heard her say L]

Traditional Wrestling CredoBy Limerick Her Butthole​Apparently this hash was themed RAWBut no one gave a fuck at all.Despite our best guessing,No one knew what to dress in,‘Guess wrestling was below our bourgeois.

The Bike Lanes Not TakenBy Robert Frosty Nipples​A trail toward Camden the hasher rode,Hoping to pass without ordealBiked quickly, and yet there slowedArrested by his scro’d-tal sack lodged in his posterior wheel.​So cum with us,(Preferably Not in our Hair)No bikes here, only feet to carry thus,Perhaps through parks and to a railroad truss,Practice for a journey continuing on elsewhere*.

The BFM Review would like to kindly thank the following contributers for their submissions which were not accepted at this time:​Edgar Allen HoeEmily DickInSideHerMasterYeats-erJohn Done-With-Your-ShitMaya Ain’t Ya GooLangston HugeAssS’ill via PilsnersWalt What’s-Wit-You-ManAllen Gin&Tonics’bergWilfred Owening-that-Butt